


Mike goes on a Syringe Trip™!

by crayonmen



Series: Dayshift at Freddy's [3]
Category: Dayshift at Freddy's (Fangame)
Genre: M/M, anywho stan lucario or perish💓, at chapter 30/40 and rereading them is making my heart go 💖💕❤ at all the misike moments, but frfr lucario u get all of my kudos like last time lmao, especially writing for them!!, i cannot get enough of your fics i stg--, i forgot what was happening at some point so i'm rereading aha--, i had like 3 hours to write this anndd i gtg lmao, i have way too many favorite characters from your series, it's insane lmao, that new years one i--🥺🥺 my heart, this is a moreso a trip down memory lane lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonmen/pseuds/crayonmen
Summary: I got INCREDIBLY bored and decided to make something within my 3-hour timespan..another SiMike fic! I cannot breathe because there's a kabob stuck in my lung, or maybe it's just because your fics take my breath away, Lucario!S L Y .(okay but for real, read at your own risk of brain hemorrages--)
Relationships: Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt (Five Nights at Freddy's)
Series: Dayshift at Freddy's [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911463
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	Mike goes on a Syringe Trip™!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucario](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucario/gifts).



Mike was already having the shittiest afternoon, if you ask him.

Well, actually, he has ALOT of shitty afternoons, so just one couldn't suffice for the HATRED FUELING HIS LITERAL HEART TO MARCH ON--because that would be fucking stupid.

He's had an explosive outburst..check.

He's strangled Dave around two times today..check.

But, there was ONE THING missing.

His pills.

He couldn't take them without them being in his fucking hand right now, and when he went to check his locker, there was nothing inside but a spare hat, a scuttler broom, and atleast three pictures of Simon on his wall, two of them featuring him and Mike cuddled up in blankets (they were watching horror movies that night) and the other one a picture of Simon giving a thumbs up.

Mike's most prized possessions, but if anyone tried to prove that Mike was soft by these photos, he might be chucking a fucking doggo/scuttler crossbreed at them.

Besides that..his pills were fucking missing. He was already having vietnam flashbacks to when Dave switched out his pills for fucking SUGAR TABLETS, which lead to Mike putting syringes in his sandwich--that FUCKHEAD had it coming.

If he's doing the same thing, TWICE, he WILL force-feed him syringes, and he WILL FUCKING ENJOY IT.

Simon wouldn't be able to stop the madlad once he gets ahold of Dave.

The frantic searching had begun, looking through the olive-green hoodie Simon gave him even, just incase the aubergine had hidden them in there because he's a fucking MANIAC like that. He might just be trying to fucking PIN IT ON HIM!

He was searching every nook and cranny, but he can't fucking find them WHATSOEVER. They were lost, and NOW he's gonna have to get new ones! FUCK. This will NOT go down well for that fucking eggplant, AND HIS FUCKING ORANGE! He hides his pills, Mike will H I D E H I S B O D Y . He fucking swears. This crayon will have never seen it coming, especially with the way he's always eye-goggling that goddamn orange.

Throwing down the hoodie as gently as he could, (it's still Simon's, afterall, he just lets him use it--HE'S STILL NOT SOFT--S H U T--) he made his way to go find that purple fuck before he does some serious damage somehow with those.

<><><>

"M-MIKE! OH HECK--WATCH OUT FOR THAT SYRINGE--"

..wait, wha--

The feeling of something heavily dosed and sharp jamming into his back was not fucking pleasant. He bit his lip, letting out a low cuss that was more of a whimper. That actually fucking HURT. No wonder why the aubergine fuck was such a pussy about these things--but didn't he say he can't feel pain?

Whatever it was, there was this needle-pricking feeling all over his body, and he soon fell to his knees, slumping onto his side. There was a shot that sounded out, and, from what he gathered from that HORRIBLE, PAIN-STAKING, BLOOD-CURDLING SCREAM FROM THE GATES OF HELL--he'd been downed by one of their team, which consisted of that weird puppet fucker, Simon, and Mike himself.

There was intense footsteps rushing over to Mike, shaking him, essentially worsening the needlestack feeling creeping beneath his skin right now--all his limbs were rendered immobile, and all he could move was his eyes and eyelids. How fucking strong WAS this shit?!

"O-OH HECK, MIKE!" Simon's metallic brows twisted upward, the casual look of worry he almost always had on his face, if you could call his dial and the rest of his phone head a face. Holy fuck, this really fucking hurt jesus fucking christ on fucking AAAAAAA--

"M-Mike, stand still! I'm going to take it out, okay?!" Simon winced in that particular phoney way of his, taking ahold of the syringe with a firm grip.

WOWIE, IT'S NOT AS IF HE COULD FUCKING MOVE ANYWAY--

Holy fucking shiiiiii..

Mike's head flopped to the side once Simon had taken it out, and with the peaceful, sleeping look on his face, Simon fucking SCREAMED like a little girl.

"MIKE! OH DOGGO, OH DOGGO, OH--"

With the sight of Simon holding his hands on his head in the most comical way ever, Mike passed out.

<><><>

What..the fuck.

Mike had..awoken(?) to an unfamiliar place.

There was stars, fucking everywhere. Everywhere he looked, atleast. He seemed to be floating in the middle of it, and he did a short spin to check his surroundings. Yeah, he was probably in fucking space.

..but, wait, how does that make sense? Actually, is this what that aubergine fuck was dreaming about right now too? Is there variations? How the fuck is this even a THING?

There was no sound, whatsoever. He could almost hear himself blink, in the crippling loneliness of this shithole. The vast majority of things around here was the dark, and thousands of stars, big or small.

So he's in a fucking vivid dream? Great. Fan-fucking-tastic, even.

He was still able to move, so he floated towards a star, for whatever autistic reason he has inside of his mind that it was a good idea. Maybe it's gonna end his sad, sad fucking life. Who knows?

Mike reached to touch it, but it faintly glowed before he even did. He struck his hand back immediately, worried, but like, a pissed kind of worried?

Like the genius he is, he reached out again. It seemed to glow in response, but he didn't reel back this time. Infact, he'd even began to touch the blazing fucking thing. The tips of his fingers grazed upon the firey ball of energy, and it didn't react. Yeah, that was fucking stupid.

He looked around once more, confused. This was just a space of fucking fire-energy-balls, just like the real space was.

There wasn't any sort of planet, and he couldn't even find the fucking sun in here.

Where is he?

He floated around to a few more stars, touching each one, seeing if there was a pattern, or maybe checking if they actually had any purpose.

Then, there was something, for fucking once.

A wrap of bandages.

They looked to be really fucking bloody, what with the mysterious red liquid staining the fabric. They were also a bit wet, and they smelled like hydrogen peroxide. The fuck?

He reached out for those, too, but something suddenly popped out that nearly fucking scared the angsty attitude out of him. HA! Just fucking kidding, that never goes away. There was a screen, bright and literally all up in his face. He reeled backwards to get a better view--and there was himself..and Simon.

Simon was sitting in that stupid fucking office chair, and the monitors flickered with static, some actually viewing what the others were doing. Mike was bandaging up that vicious fucking doggo bite on Simon's hand, carefully as can be.

Mike was tense, brows furrowed and tongue slightly sticking out from between his lips in concentration. He leaned forward, whilst Simon slept on the lowered seat.

This was so fucking long ago..before he even really, well--

Mike flushed inside of the space void--FUCKITHE'SNOTSAYINGTHATWORDEVER--

Mike seemed to have realized--he needed payback on the aubergine psycho still. This was ironic, considering he'd sticked the fucker with a needle in this memory, and now he was the one who was sticked.

He exited the room, to which Simon sat up soon after.

..and the memory ended.

The fuck was THAT? The ghost of christmas past?

He must be really fucked up on this syringe, right now.

Mike shook his head, and floated upwards, sideways, whatever he could do that didn't bore the fuck out of him. That memory was pretty interesting atleast, if you could call it that. Past memories aren't too fucking bad, atleast it wasn't the bandages from when he spiked himself with his Dolls Kill heels when he was sixteen.

Fuck, his internal organs are cringing so hard they're turning outwards. QUICK! FIND SOMETHING TO FUCKING DO!

REEEEEEEEEEE--

Oh, look! A convenient firework!

Maybe he could use it to blow himself up and get the fuck out of this hallucination.

It seemed to be lit, but the kinder fire wasn't moving an inch up the thin wire. It was frozen in time, seemingly lifeless.

Is this even a hallucination, or is this a fucking Stephen King book?

..christ, he wishes Simon could aim for SHIT, and maybe he wouldn't have gotten shot!

He's assuming it was Simon, cause the puppet was just using it's bare hands and replaced them with needles. Unless he somehow shot himself, it was definitely fucking plausible.

Aside from that..this firework was pretty fucking sick. Frozen like that, and all.

Can he--HOLY FUCK--

Once his fingers had even blemished the surface of the plastic, it seemed to blow up and nearly shot off his fingers--he thinks.

It showed that fucking screen again, and this time..

It was New Years.

Okay, yeah, his face looked like those bandages, now.

Completely red, he watched intently, but more-so of a pretend-not-to-look-but-is-actually-looking kind of way.

Simon was nervous. REALLY, REALLY NERVOUS. He was twiddling his thumbs out of the sheer anxiety, Mike almost doesn't know how he didn't realize that he looked like he was gonna do something so romantic.

The cold, midnight air of winters touch blew against the two (lovebirds), Mike's face torching hot to battle against it. Simon seemed to be just as deep in-thought as Mike was, contemplating. Mike only realized Simon was waiting for something just as the fireworks went off, and Simon pulled him in for a loving kiss as the fireworks blew into the twinkling sky of stars, colors blasting into shapes and sizes of an array of things--but Mike was more focused on Simon, even out of the memory himself.

He remembers only the acrylic glass of a phone dial being smushed against tender lips, the smell of gunpowder and BBQ, and the sounds of whooping, hollering, cheering to hearts end. Mike had a taste of true love, and he was willing to go for it.

Mike stumbled back as well as Simon did, the light behind Simon's phone dial lighting up and Mike's face coming to life with a hint of warmth on it. 

His lips buzzed with electricity somehow, and the warmth wouldn't fade.

Phoney was laughing, the beautiful sound coming straight from his receivers.

He said something, Mike said yes--

and they held hands together.

..it ended just the same as he remembered it.

Yeah, Mike never got over that. Fucking Simon..so embarrassing.

And then, he was desperately scrounging this memory box for another, because if that didn't make his heart stutter, what fucking did?

Oh, yeah, THAT AUBERGINE FUCK STEALING HIS PILLS, SENDING HIM INTO A BLOOD-BATH RAGE.

That too.

He found himself searching for a while, and as it turns out, up and down was usually his go-to for finding them more easily.

Mike had stumbled upon the olive-green sweater Simon left him with just recently, and stopped to think. Yeah, this is most likely the way fucking out. If this wasn't enough of a hint, then nothing was. At fucking all.

He lunged forward for it like some fucking depraved animal, ready to get the fuck out instead now, thinking about how Simon might be killing himself over Mike's supposed fucking death. Then again, Simon knows he doesn't go down that easily, last time he checked with him.

A screen knocked him back, surprisingly, and it showed him the simple scene of Simon shrieking and attempting to toss Mike's lifeless form back and forth with the fucking strength he's using to wake him back up.

Fuck, maybe he didn't assume he was stronger.

..ego destroyed.

Simon seemed to be hugging his form now, whispering something--atleast he thinks, he can't hear him. In the others he fucking COULD, but this one's sooo special. Mike rolled his eyes. Fucking EZ to solve this, from how many shitty rom-com/sci-fi movies he's seen.

He put his hand on the screen, and as soon as he did, everything went dark.

Fuck this.

<><><>

"OHMYGOD--MIKE!"

Simon was hugging the life out of him, sobbing noises sounding out from his receivers.

He looked around for anyone watching, and hugged him back shortly--before flailing back and running up to Dave's also lifeless body.

Old Sport, that tangerine fuck--he wasn't actually around, it seemed. Must be fucking off with his 'children' and doesn't realize Dave is fucking knocked the hell out. Shouldn't he just get-y'know, fucking spidey sense to tell when he is?

He kicked Dave in the ribs, and the purple fuck actually seemed to wake up and gasp for air the moment he did.

"GIVE ME FUCKING PILLS, YOU AUTISTIC FUCK!"

He screeched, like a demon from hell and back--before hopping ontop of him and putting his hands on his throat and S Q U E E Z E D .

And, that's how Mike went on a trip.

Fin.

Okay, stop reading.

Stop fucking reading--


End file.
